


i caught your fever (i'll be feeling it forever)

by softshocks



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: Actresses AU, F/F, a bit angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softshocks/pseuds/softshocks
Summary: She kisses Handong like the award-winning actress she is, like she doesn’t mean it, like she doesn’t want endlessly. Bora does what she does best: pretend.Only that this isn’t a film, or a show, or a music video. It’s real life and Handong probably doesn’t love her back.
Relationships: Han Dong | Handong/Kim Bora | SuA
Comments: 34
Kudos: 132
Collections: #GGFLASHFIC





	i caught your fever (i'll be feeling it forever)

**Author's Note:**

> For ggflashfic fest! Excerpts from It Is At Moments After I Have Dreamed by e.e. cummings
> 
> Title from fever by carly rae jepsen :^) cw for recreational drug use 
> 
> Stream boca on genie, bugs, and youtube + collect stars/hearts so we can get them their first win!

_i. it is at moments after i have dreamed_

_of the rare entertainment of your eyes,_

_when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed_

They meet at the afterparty of Bora’s first ever film premiere, and it changes Bora’s life more than the official launch of her career. 

“Congratulations,” she says, offering her hand daintily, but the firm grip surprises Bora, too. “It was a lovely film.” 

High cheekbones. Piercing eyes. Blonde hair that you can spot a mile away and Bora can’t stop looking. 

Bora bows, thanking her. She’s aware of the cameras flashing, taking pictures of them, of their first meeting. “I don’t think we’ve been acquainted before.” 

They haven’t but Bora knew who the woman was. 

Han Dong. One of the biggest names in Broadway and in film. She’s been in the industry longer than Bora has, purely because of generations of people in her family. 

The way she says her name feels like something that echoes through her body and Bora wants to be around her. 

It’s no different from the way Handong kisses her, in the ladies' restroom, pushing Bora against the lavish marble counters. But it also makes the difference, somehow hotter, somehow much more like being consumed. 

Handong leaves red marks along her skin, pulling Bora’s Tom Ford dress to the side to kiss her neck. 

A slow burn from the inside and Bora lets it. 

-

_ii. with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;_

They fall into a routine and Bora has never been good at them, and neither has Handong, but they fall in each other’s beds more often than they’d initially predicted. 

(“Did you think we’ll ever get here?” Bora asks, stubbing a blunt she doesn’t want to finish anymore in an ashtray near her bed. 

Usually, she doesn’t smoke up in bed, but filming has been utter shit that she deserves just a little bit. She also deserves the way she curls into Handong’s body, warm and pliant, and smelling of their activities for the last hours. 

“When I approached you at that afterparty, I knew exactly what I wanted.” Handong laughs, deep like the sea but light like wind chimes and Bora realizes she’s in love and that’s not what Handong wanted.)

Had she been gifted with writing, these moments of respite and desperation and passion were songs, sonnets, poems, epics waiting to be written. 

Alas, Bora was not. She kisses Handong like the award-winning actress she is, like she doesn’t mean it, like she doesn’t want endlessly. Bora does what she does best: pretend.

Only that this isn’t a film, or a show, or a music video. It’s real life and Handong probably doesn’t love her back. 

-

_iii. at moments when the glassy darkness holds_

Bora falls in love with her. How couldn’t she? 

Handong was witty, talented, beautiful. She was exceptionally good at touching Bora the way she needed, and she received Bora’s affection - even in the dark - so well. 

Bora doesn’t say it. She doesn’t know why. 

(She knows exactly why. This wasn’t what Handong wanted and she didn’t want to be hurt, didn’t want her pride to be even more wounded than it already is.) 

She almost says it, when Handong takes her inside the limousine after a premiere where they’d said hello, casually, as if they haven’t seen each other in the throes of passion or the mornings after, basking in curtains of sunshine painting their skin bright yellow. 

“Handong, I—” she says, plateauing, her hand on the leather of the seat. _I love you. I want you to love me outside of this car. I don’t want to see you leave in the morning._

“Yeah?” Handong says, her breath against Bora’s lips. 

“I want more,” she says, and it’s barely curtailed truth, and Bora knows Handong sees behind all of it, knows she sees through her. 

Bora does want more, and it’s all she ever thinks about these days. All she does is want Handong to no end, and when she comes, the ache in her heart worsens. 

-

_iv. the genuine apparition of your smile (it was through tears always)and silence moulds such strangeness as was mine a little while_

One day, Bora does ask. 

“If we were regular people,” she brings up, after they’ve messed around and rolled some. They’re eating to chase away the munchies and the lush sheets from the time Handong was in Malaysia pools around Handong’s hips. “Would you have fallen in love with me?” 

There’s a hesitation that Bora doesn’t always see. “Possibly.” She says, choosing her words carefully as Handong always does. She was trained for this and Bora knows. “I don’t know.”

That pulls a scoff from Bora, but tears fill the rims of her eyelids. “Is it so hard to love me, Handong? Would it be so bad?”

“No, not at all.” Handong wipes her tears away, her thumb warm and soft against Bora’s cheek. 

“Then give me a try.” 

The hand touching her cheek moves away, with much hesitation. As if the very movement is heavy with lead. “I’m scared, Bora. I’m not like you.” 

_I’m not brave enough._

_I’m not strong enough._

_I’m scared._

Each feels like a bullet to her chest, and each time she’s given a reason, Bora stands to put on her clothing. 

_-_

_v. moments when my once more illustrious arms_ _are filled with fascination, when my breast_ _wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:_

It’s too much, and when the burning felt amazing, sometimes it was too much. 

(Bora has always been told she was too much.)

Her pride, bruised. Her heart, broken. No matter how good the sex is and how tender Handong is after won’t fix her heart. 

She wants to see Handong in the sunlight. She wants to hold Handong’s hand outside of this. She wants to tell the paps to fuck off when they’re out and about together, being in love and all that. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Handong.” Bora doesn’t apologize. She’ll never apologize for loving someone. “I can’t keep being in this limbo. I don’t do things halfway.” 

Handong doesn’t say anything, only nods, but there are tears in her eyes that Bora doesn’t look too long at or else she’ll break. 

-

_vi. one pierced moment whiter than the rest_

Sometimes she finds herself watching Handong’s interviews, to rub salt on the wound. Pour alcohol to sterilize it. Whatever. Maybe if it hurt too much it'll stop. 

_“Is there anyone special in your life right now?”_

Handong fiddles with the necklace Bora had given her, some time ago. She barely wore it, until recently. And she fiddles with it with what Bora can tell are nervous hands. _“It’s… complicated.”_ Handong says, simply. She seems to want to say more, but Bora knows it’s her. Knows it deep in her bones.

She texts Handong, right after. _Complicated?_

Handong replies, much later. _Can we make it simpler?_

_If you’re willing to love me, we can talk._

Handong’s last text is: _I’ve always been willing but I wasn’t brave enough._

Oh, Bora knows. She’s well-acquainted with the fact.

Then, her number appears, Handong calling. Bora had deleted the contact but she knows her number by heart. She still does. 

She sighs, her hands shaking. “So I take it you’re brave enough now?” 

Her heart soars, even if she tries to stop it, when Handong says: “ _I don’t think so, but you make me want to be. So I will.”_

-

_vii. —turning from the tremendous lie of sleep_

_i watch the roses of the day grow deep._

Handong arrives at her doorstep, with roses and an apology, but Bora kisses her first. 

“I love you,” she whispers fiercely into Handong’s mouth. Bora’s pride, her stubbornness, out the window even for this small moment. 

“I love you. I’m terrified, but you’re worth it,” Handong says back, and the fire inside Bora burns so brightly but this time, she dances in the flames. 


End file.
